My mother left me one thing
when she passed away—
a statuette of a standing grizzly bear.

Smooth wood and minimal form
a dark brown stain
a granite base.

It stands at the foot of my bed
to make bad dreams wary
of approaching my sleep.

If she set it up as sentinel
back when I suffered
childhood night terrors

she would have slept
through until dawn
more often than not.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

But Never Did

My phone rings.
Spam Risk.

Which means it’s mom
calling from the other side

to talk about a photo
of me when I was young

and my rubber band fueled
propeller balsa wood airplanes.

Sometimes I answer
in an effort to extrapolate

the total number of subjects
she meant to speak with me in life.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney